


You're Not a Kindly Old Man

by thathyperloudfangirlchick



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thathyperloudfangirlchick/pseuds/thathyperloudfangirlchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt: “I can literally hear you sneezing through the walls and I brought some chicken noodle soup over for you because I have exams to study for and your sneezing is seriously distracting me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Achoo!_

“That’s three times; he gets to make a wish now,” you comment to your roommate. She gives you an amused look before turning to her work. You place a sandwich in front of her and pat her hair.

“Ohh, Y/N, I love you so much, have I mentioned that?” she says, kissing your hand before reaching for one of your famous, homemade BBQ chips. You smile back before wiping your hand on your apron and walking back to the tiny kitchenette the two of you share.

“Not since five hours ago when I last put a plate in front of you, but hey, keep it coming,” you reply, moving the dirty dishes to the sink.

_Achoo!_

“Four times is a bit excessive, don’t you think?” your roommate asks, looking towards the ceiling in aggravation. You nod and follow her line of sight, your thoughts more sympathetic than hers. Lucy, still in business school, had finals for which her precious studying kept being interrupted by the sporadic sneezing and wheezing coming from the upstairs apartment. You, having already finished community college, could care less if not for the fact the thin walls of your apartment building betrayed the information that the poor neighbor had had the flu and a cough that was getting worse over the past twenty hours.

“Would you like me to go get your headphones?” you ask Lucy, finishing wiping down the counter. She nods, murmuring something akin to a ‘please’. It’s sort of hard to tell with food stuffed in her mouth, you think, giggling, as you search her impeccably organized room. You come out and place the headphone case neatly on the table next to her binders, and she utters a quiet ‘thank you’.

_ACHOO!_ Your eye twitches in annoyance.

“That’s it!” you say, stomping your foot against the carpeting of your apartment. “Someone has got to go feed that boy,” you insist, pulling a large pot out of your cupboard.

“And that someone is you?” Lucy asks, amused. You look at her with eyes that could only be saying ‘Duh’.

“Is there really anyone better suited?” you ask, referring to the combination of your mothering tendencies and current position as pastry cook in the up-and-coming establishment of Virginia’s culinary scene. Lucy shakes her head and laughs at you, knowing disagreeing would be futile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lid of the tupperware clasps with a satisfying click. You stand with your hands on your hips, satisfied with spread laid out in front of you, your patented Get Well Soon Care Meal (not to be confused with six other Care Meals you have memorized for when the situation calls for it.) The congee is warm and steaming with just the right amount of salt, ginger and chicken to achieve maximum tastiness and healthiness. The green tea is piping hot, steeped for exactly four minutes and twelve seconds, a time you personally experimented with to attain the maximum herbal taste of the tea without leaning to the bitter. It is perfect.

“This is perfect,” you tell Lucy. You look back for praise and confirmation just to find the headphones already back on. How long had you been cooking? You walk over and tap her hand.

“Lucy, doll, I’m heading upstairs to go deliver the food. If I die or don’t come back, you know where I last was.” She gives you a thumbs-up, the only confirmation that she heard you, so you grab your toasty-warm tote bag of well wishes and head out the door, but not before hearing another coughing fit come from directly above you.

‘Hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I live under you- wait no, that doesn’t sound right. I just moved in on the floor below you- yeah, that sounds better, and I couldn’t help but hear that you were sick- Wait, no, that makes you sound you’re eavesdropping- but you were eavesdropping- shit,” you rant in your head before coming up to the door. You shrug before knocking gently. “I wonder what he looks like. He’s so quiet, probably some kindly old man, poor thing. Remember, Y/N, be polite, introduce yourself, don’t be a-”

“Can I help you?”

“…You’re not a kindly old man,” you blurt out, your eyes widening at the tall, slender man standing before you in his jammies and bathrobe, his messy yet still hella sexy short hair in alarming disarray.

“…No, I am not. You, however, are Y/N Y/L/N. You and another girl moved in the apartment below me. You two are very quiet; I appreciate that. I’m sorry, is there a reason you’re here? I’d invite you in usually, but I have the flu, and I’d hate for you to catch it.” At this, you snap out of your beauty-admiring reverie and lean forward.

“Um, actually, I’m here about your flu. My roommate and I can hear you sneezing and coughing like crazy from below, so um I thought I’d bring you something to eat… so you can get well,” you finish lamely, holding up the pale yellow tote bag on your hands. His eyes widen in surprise before moving aside and letting you in. You step in, nodding graciously, and move to the side as he closes the door.

“I’m sorry for the mess. There’s usually a method to the madness, but I’ve been feeling so fatigued, I haven’t been able to keep it organized.” You wave a hand dismissively, a polite smile on your face.

“Don’t worry. This is what my room looks like on a normal day, so I’m in no position to judge. If you could lead me towards your kitchen, please?” With a curt nod, he walks left into a bright, plain kitchen that- hey this is bigger than yours, that’s not fair… “Sit, please,” you suggest, walking up to the table, emptying your bag. In front of him, you place a green plastic container of rice porridge and chopped chicken with a spoon and the thermos of green tea before pouring it into the tea cup you brought and taking a hesitant seat kitty-corner to him.

“It’s, um, congee, rice porridge with chicken and garlic. The porridge will help you keep up your fluids, while the meat and garlic will give you protein and nutrients. And the tea, the tea is green tea with lots of honey; it’s supposed to be good for sickness, and the honey will help soothe your throat,” you ramble, before stopping yourself and pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling. If anything isn’t to your taste, I can go downstairs and make something else if you like.” He, nameless, now that you think about it, shakes his head before picking up the soup spoon, scooping a sip of porridge and delicately blowing on it. ‘Holy shit he looks like just-having-sex sin but eats like a delicate baby bird I CAN’T,” your inner self screams as Nameless Sex on Legs Man gives you a small, grateful smile.

“This is delicious. I can tell you put a lot of care and thought into this meal, and you’re absolutely right; everything you described is scientifically proven to help illnesses, and you incorporated them in such a cohesive manner. You’re very good at this. Taking care of people with food.” You laughs, embarrassed at the sudden, matter-of-fact, and run a hand through your hair.

“Well, yeah, I guess I am, that’s sorta of why I became a cook. I grew up associating food as the greatest source of comfort and the most expressive way of showing love, so, of course, I learned the best way to take care of people with it” Your eyes widen as you think about what you just said. “Not that I- um-” He only smiles at you again over the spoon, a third of the small container and a cup of tea gone in a blink. You refill his tea while fumbling for a way to change the subject. “So, what’s your name, Mysterious Downstairs Neighbor?” He gulps down his current spoonful before quietly laughing.

“My name is Spencer Reid. I’m sorry, I’m so dazed, I completely forgot to mind my manners.” You shake your head nonchalantly.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s very nice meeting you, Spencer. We’re neighbors now, so I hope we will get along.” Spencer Reid- ‘what a nice name,’ you think- smiles at you again, startling you with the jewel-like green of his eyes.

“I’m sure we will, Y/N. Thank you for the delicious meal. I’m sure with the intake of fluids and vitamins I just had, my recovery will be much quicker.” You nod, flustered in the presence of an attractive stranger, and look down at the table as you quickly stand up and pack everything up and put it back in your bag. He leads you towards the door, and he lingers for a second as you exit. “That really was very good, Y/N. The next time, I get sick, I know who to call.

“I look forward to it,” you reply with a pleased flush before you pale as you understand what you just said. “Not- looking forward to you getting sick- just- looking forward to- um- you… calling… me…?” Your eyes widen, and you clench your mouth shut as you take a step backwards and start to briskly walk down the hall. “BYE, Spencer, hope you feel better” is all you yell over your shoulder before you turn the corner and start jogging. You jog until you get inside your living room, where you lean back against the door and allow yourself to slide down to the floor in defeat. Alarmed by the door slam, Lucy takes off her headphones and turns toward you.

“Well. You’re not dead."

“I might as well be. THE NEIGHBOR IS HOT, LUCY”

“Oh, yeah, geddit, girl.”

“Lucy, you remember what I’m like around hot people, right?”

“How many times did you put your foot in your mouth?”

“I can recall three distinct instances, but honestly, he was so disheveled and pretty, I sorta zoned out.”

“On the bright side, that’s less than half the amount of times you made a fool out of yourself last time!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten feet below you, Spencer is still grinning, amused, at your skittish demeanor, while brushing his teeth. For the first time in two days, he feels almost good, the porridge and tea warming him from the inside out in a way that makes him comfortable and sleepy. While settling in bed, he hears the slam of a door below him.

_THE NEIGHBOR IS HOT, LUCY!_

Spencer lets out a light laugh at your cuteness before nestling his head into his pillow, his last thought before a peaceful slumber takes him that he could very well say the same for you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the prompt: “The postal worker delivered your package to my place accidentally and I was expecting something so I totally didn’t look before I opened it and… wow that is um… quite an interesting thing you bought and I’m here to return it”

          “Y/N, have I mentioned that are an absolute darling, sweet, summer child?”

          “Only the last time you wanted me to do something. What is it now, Lucy?” you ask, peeking in the oven window at the pie carefully baking.

          “Nothing much. I just want you to tell Spencer upstairs that you love him with all of your little doe heart and want to jump his bones and have his babies.” You laugh, putting on your floral red oven mitts and taking out the aromatic, dark orange pie out the oven.

          “I can’t do that, but I CAN give you some homemade sweet potato pie.”

          “I’ll take it,” she says, reaching for the steaming tin. You grab the cutting board the pie is on and slide it away from her, a stern look in your eyes as she sticks out her bottom lip at you.

          “You have to wait for it to cool, you dork, and I’m going to top it with hand-whipped cream, so patience.” She huffs, turning her back on you and walking down the hallway.

          “You suck, Y/N! You better watch your back, girl,” she threatens, closing the door to her room as the doorbell rings.

          “Lucy, could you please- ah, nevermind, I got it,” you mutter to yourself, putting down your whisk and licking the stripe of cream of your fingers as you open the door.

          “You know, it’s actually really dangerous for you to open the door like that without checking. As a concerned neighbor, you should really make use of the peephole since most people in this building know two girls live here.” You gape with your fingertip still in your mouth like a dope as Spencer Reid stands on your red “Come back with a warrant” welcome mat. You blush and wipe your hands on your- god, flour and potato stained- apron before nervously meeting his eyes.

          “S-Spencer! Umm, what can I do for you? Are you still feeling sick?” He shakes his head before giving you a grateful smile, and, ohh, that face makes makes your knees weak.

          “I’m feeling much better actually. Nutrients and rest is exactly what the doctor ordered. I’m actually here because I got this interesting package this morning, and I happened to open it without realizing it had your name on it. I’m really sorry about opening it, I didn’t mean to encroach on your personal business.” He hands you the box, and you take it, confused, and you blush as your fingertips graze his hands in the exchange. You avoid his gaze by rifling through the box.

          “Personal? I don’t understand, I wasn’t expecting a packa-” Your eyes widen as your hands push back the paper and styrofoam peanuts in the box to reveal a package of a different kind. Inside lay a long, white ceramic object that you could not even imagine existed. One end was a plain mixing spoon, the other end a ceramic model of a penis, veins and all. What one would do with such an odd object is beyond you, and you immediately drop the box and step back, alternating between shooting the offensive object a look of disdain and giving Spencer an imploring look, hoping that with that one glance, he would hopefully forget the entire thing and understand you would order no such thing.

         "See- See- tha-that’s… THAT is not… LUCY!“ You yell, frantically. Lucy pops her head out her room, a cat like grin on her face as she walks up to the two of you.

         "Well, Y/N, it looks like you’ve gotten your gift. You, Reid, why don’t you stay and teach her how to use it?” She asks, tugging Spencer into the apartment by the arm. You sputter indignantly as she nudges the box inside and closes the door behind her with a grab of her purse and a wink. The two of you stand there, you shell-shocked and he vaguely amused, as you twist your hands in the fabric of your apron, at a loss for what to do next.

         "Um… I’m sorry… About her… Lucy can be very… Forceful. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,“ you say, you gaze looking anywhere but the handsome man next to you and finally locking on your feet which- of course- are clad in How to Train Your Dragon Night Fury slippers. While considering how subtle you can be in removing and hiding said slippers, the answer being not at all, Spencer responds, looking around the room.

         "I’ll leave if you want me too, Y/N, but I’ve been invited in, and I’d like to stay, get to know better. Is that pie, I smell?

         "Um, yes, it is. I went to the farmer’s market to get some Autumn produce and picked up a lot of sweet potato.” You look up, tucking your long bangs behind your ears as you venture a look at the brunet beauty in front of you. “Would you like a slice? I was just making the whipped cream when you came.” Spencer nods and sweeps an arm out, a silent gesture for you to lead the way.

         "You make your own whip cream, you say?“ You nod, leading him towards one of the bar stools at the counter that overlooks your workspace.

          “Like I said before, food is kinda my thing. Making whipped cream is actually pretty easy. Heavy whipping cream, some sugar, maybe a little bit of extract, I’m adding just a teensy bit of apple juice for more of that fall flavor, and you just whip,” you say, whisking the cream.

          “Do you work as a cook?” he asks, leaning forward to look at the tin of pie. You raise the whisk and point it at him, and he leans back in the chair, palms out.

          “NO touching the pie before it’s ready.”

          “It’s cool!” he protests. You shake your head, continuing to whisk.

          “But it’s not ready,” you correct, testing the stiffness of the peaks. “It will be ready when it is neatly cut and served on a plate with the whip cream on top, so patience.” He laughs at that, leaning forward on his elbows.

          “Oh, so you’re one of those types of people,” he teases, laughing as you practically pounce whenever he gets too close to the pie.

          “There are routines and procedures to how things should be done. Baking is one of them,” you insist as you cut him a slice a pie and dollop some cream on top. He moans as he takes that first boat, and you drop the knife, blushing as his gaze turns toward you at the clang of the blade on the countertop. You look down and take a bite of the pie yourself, smiling at the flakiness of the crust you worked so hard to achieve.

          “The apple juice really makes a difference, Y/N. This is delicious,” he compliments. You smile gratefully, and Spencer can’t help but think the apple-red of your cheeks is so endearing.

          “So, um, sorry about Lucy… This is her weird idea of a prank, I guess. She loves to see me all flustered,” you say, an apologetic look on your face, and Spencer laughs, glancing at the nondescript box on the floor near the door.

          “She also sent it to my apartment, because she knows that you’re attracted to me, and  she wanted a way to get me here,” he says matter-of-factly, his expression becoming mischievous as you drop your fork and look up at him, your mouth falling open. “I work as a behavior analyst for the FBI, and I heard you say “the neighbor is cute” after you left my apartment.” He grins at you, and you wring your hands together nervously. “I was thinking the same thing, you know.” You stand before him, wide-eyed and shocked, before you fall to the floor, your head clipping the edge of the counter on your way down. Spencer jumps out his seat and walks around the island to you, who is kneeling on the floor, a hand on your aching forehead.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Is something wrong?” You look up at him, bright red and teary-eyed.

          “I- um… you shocked me, and my legs they they they sorta… umm… stopped working,” you mumble, blushing. He huffs out a laugh at that, one arm going around you, and takes both of your hands, helping you up. Once you were standing, you find yourself level with his tie-and-sweater-vest clad chest and your hands still encompassed in his much larger palms. He indicates no signs of letting go as his thumbs traces over the back of your hands and his eyes search the planes of your pink face.

          “Would you give me the honor of going out on a date with me, Y/N?” he asks politely, bringing your hand to his lips to place a gentle kiss there. You stammer, your eyes nervously flicking from his pretty green eyes- and oh, ain’t they pretty- to your hand held in his thin, strong fingers.

          “I’m sorry, you’re… asking me out on a date…? I’m sorry, have you seen me?” You feel him smile against your skin, his eyes lighting up in amusement and- dare you hope- affection.

          “I’m sorry, have you seen you? You’re adorable.” His smile widens as your face practically glow. Your skin is warm to the touch as he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek. “May I take you out tomorrow? Halloween is coming up, and I have an extra ticket to a phantasmagoria downtown that is sure to be fascinating.” After a few shocked seconds, you nod, a smile on your face as he hugs you close. Your hands shyly embrace him back, your fingers holding onto the soft material of his sweater, when Lucy walks through the door, Cheshire grin at home on her face.

          “So, hey there, neighbor. You teach her how to use her gift?” she asks, hanging her purse on the hook and walking over to the counter and leaning on it, smirking at the two of you as you part.

          “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, as we have a date tomorrow, right, Y/N?” You bashfully nod at Lucy before she lets out a cheer and claps her hands.

          “YES! I knew it could happen, I am the best wingman ever, it’s so official, we should throw a party in my honor, but instead, YOU, mister neighbor, will be staying for dinner. I vet all of our sweet girl’s boys, and that includes you.” You hide your face behind your hands, groaning as she teases you good-naturedly.

          “And exactly how many boys has Y/N had over, Lucy?”

          “None!” She replied, tugging his arm and placing him in a chair as she leads you towards the stove. “Which means that I must unleash all my loving, overprotective tendencies on you. You poor thing.” You meet his eyes behind her back and mouth an ‘I’m sorry’. He only leads forward in his chair and props his chin on folded hands.

          “Unleash away. I can handle it.” Lucy claps him on the back and hands you the rice for dinner.

          “That’s what I like to hear! I hope you can, cause we have a long evening of getting to know each other ahead of us,” she exclaims, shredding cheese next to you. You and he share a look over your shoulder, and you blush and turn back towards the pot, not aware of Spencer looking at you like he’s become more and more smitten with you every time you glow pink.


End file.
